When life is too good for just a smiley face ...

Smiley belly!

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SnowJam2014

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Like many, MANY people in the ATL, I spent a looooooong time--8.5 hours WITHOUT a potty break, which is really like 205 bladder hours--in my car last Tuesday trying to get home in the snow and ice. In that 8.5 hours, which started at 12:45 p.m., I ate a handful of tiny little chocolate candies that I grabbed out of my desk, just in case it took me a couple of hours to get home--because I hadn't had lunch yet. And no water--but that was actually okay, since I had nowhere to pee. Here's the first indication (besides, you know, the fact that I wasn't moving very fast on the interstate and it was snowing) that I wasn't going to get home for a while: Yes, that does say it's going to take 89-91 minutes to go 9 miles. But, it lied. It took me more than three hours. I'm not sure how many minutes that is, but I know it's more than 89-91. Here's my view for most of the ride. Here's the Delk Road exit (the one mentioned on the sign in the first photo...
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Donkey with a death wish

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At the edge of the caldera, in the tiny town of Fira, on Santorini, my sister, Susan, and I peered out at the Agean Sea, marveling at a blue they created just for Greece. Our eyes traveled to donkeys ferrying people and things up from the boats docked at the old port below. I don’t remember which of us thought it would be fun to hike the zigzagged path to the port, then ride a donkey back up, but it was a terrible, scary, asinine, stupid idea. It was still fairly early in the morning when we started down the thousands of wide, uneven, cobblestone, horror-movie steps. But the sun that beat on the island in August didn't have a clock. We'd finished our water and worked up a sweat before we hit the half-way point. At the port we poked into gift shops, bought a couple of trinkets and drank more water before seeking out our animal transport. We climbed a few steps, handed over our money and sat down on the next donkey that waited beside the top step. A mother and her two...
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Top 5 reasons to find and stick with a critique group

Part II of my joining groups post: Recently I’ve read blog posts and comments from writers who’ve had bad experiences with critique groups, including this one here . I just thought I’d share the other side of the experience. I’ve been in the same critique group more years than I like to think about, and I wouldn’t be a writer without them. That said, here are my reasons for happily sticking with them: No. 5 I’ve become a better writer for critiquing the work of other people. Part of my day job is editing newspaper and magazine copy, not books. By thinking about what works and what doesn’t work and why as I read other people’s fiction, I learn to recognize those same things in my own writing. No. 4 They are all good at different things. Carol can see the big picture. She moves sentences, paragraphs or even whole scenes around so that they make more sense or build more suspense than the way I had them. Cindy, with her eye for detail, catches little mistakes, like if a car changes color o...
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